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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1316483
How each of my parents came to America.
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“I was a city girl,” my mom told me.
“I lived in Vientiane. My aunt and uncle worked for the embassy.
The streets were always busy with people and their markets.”

“I lived in the country,” my dad told me.
“I had to climb up a ladder to get to our two bedroom house.
I had to take showers in the woods where I would pump for water.”

“All of my family had already come to America.
I was one of the last ones out of all my brothers and sisters to be sent for.”
         My mom had six other siblings. She was the oldest daughter.
“Your grandma sent a secret agent to come and get me from the city.
I was lucky we had money for that.”

“Only your uncle and I came. Everyone else stayed.
We had to escape into Thailand; it was too risky.”
         My dad was the baby and my uncle the second youngest.
“We had no other choice but to leave the family.
We were lucky that they wanted us to leave for a better life.”
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